Still the keys sit, patient for the moment when they will once again be reunited with the feeling that brings them alive. The gentle whispers of tune and wisps of enchantment seduce them to play, yet they cannot when the pianist is not present. Suddenly, the missus sits on the bench and arranges her fingers across the keys in an odd fashion. She plays an A flat, then an A sharp. She sighs with uncertain agony. She lifts her eyes and tears form in crest of the stunning carribbean blue shade. Her eyes glaze over as she begins to play the heart1wrenching tune. She plays with sadness and grace, and agony and fear. The song is filled with torment and regret, and it is painful to hear it.The song slows and her fingers become more gentle upon the keys. They stop. The missus rests her head on the piano and says, “I love you, Alexandria. Rest in peace.” She kisses the keys and a fluttery sound emerges. They soon realize that their time with the pianist is over and they will never return to the bliss of her melody.